


Daughters

by Jay_Wells



Series: Tabris on Roleplaying [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Canon Backstory, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-24 11:59:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10741278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jay_Wells/pseuds/Jay_Wells
Summary: Cyrion can't save his daughter, not from poverty, not from human men, not from recruitment. He couldn't save his wife, why she his daughter be any different.





	Daughters

Cyrion tapped his fingers restlessly against the coffee table, listening to Shianni and Kallian giggle and tease each other while they get ready for the wedding. He knew Kallian wasn’t ready for this, that she’d begged him to give her another year to be a child, and the Maker knew he wanted to. Eighteen was too young to give her away to a stranger. But Valendrian had urged him to reconsider a month ago.

“There is a Blight coming, and Duncan is returning to search for recruits,” the elder had informed him while they were returning from a day’s work in the city. “I know Highever has a few young elves who you could choose from. The dowry would be steep, but we could save two of our own.”

“Soris and Kallian,” he’d mused. “But Shianni? What of her?”

Valendrian’s eyes had dropped. “Shianni is a bright young woman, but her fiery personality makes young men … hesitant. And I do not believe she will leave us for the Wardens. She is too eager to better the community.”

“And you think Soris and Kallian don’t?” He’d kept his voice controlled.

“I think they’d go, because they would believe dying as heroes would serve their people.” The hahren had clasped his shoulder. “I know you love those children. I would not see them taken from us. Let me arrange their marriage. It’s about time for both of them -- eighteen and seventeen, is it?”

And here he was. The night he told them, they shifted and squirmed and asked for more time, but ultimately accepted it. At least, he thought, they were staying in Denerim and not being sent away to Highever. 

Kallian rounded the corner from the alcove where they’d stored the beds. She stopped in front of him and bowed her head respectfully, “Good morning, Father.”

“Good morning, daughter. It is your big day. Oh, I wish your mother could have been here.” Adaia, his wife, who died when she refused to roll over for a guard at the royal palace. 

Kallian bit her lip and didn’t respond. He imagined she was counting to ten, like he’d taught her, before she responded. He wished Shianni learned the same trick. “I wish she was here, too. Why do you think Highever sent them so quickly?”

“Who knows? The elder took it in stride, at least.” He smiled at his daughter, taking in for a moment how much she looked like her mother in the jawline and the eyes. She wore her hair the same, and in her mother’s wedding clothes, she almost looked like a ghost. “Anyway, I’ve paid the dowry, the Chantry’s issued the permit and it’s worked out fine.”

Just in time, too. Duncan arrived less than an hour after Nelaros and Valora. When he tried to recruit Adaia, Valendrian had convinced his friend that she was better off with her family. Cyrion prayed it would work again.

“I’d rather not … ” She ran a hand through her hair, then froze when she remembered she was getting married and quickly smoothed it back down.

He laughed. “I understand. Before I met your mother, it was much the same way. I half considered running off with the Dalish.” He winked at her, and she smiled a bit. “Just be glad I chose the match. Without anyone representing you, you’d be stuck with whoever Valendrian could find.”

“I know, Father,” she said. “I appreciate the effort.”

He hoped she liked him. He’d spent hours combing over the possible boys and chosen one he thought would treat her well. He’d intended the same for Soris, but he couldn’t afford both dowries, and the match had been left to Valendrian. “Alright, go find Soris. The sooner this wedding starts, the less time you’ll have to escape.”

She grinned mischieviously. “A small chance is still a chance.”

“Still have your mother’s smart mouth, I see.” He never wanted to see it beaten out of her. He woken with nightmares before of her or Shianni or Soris lying on the ground, beaten and bloody -- He wouldn’t think about it. They’d be safe, if they could only learn to lie low. “Oh, and one last thing before you go, Kallian. Your martial training. The swordplay, knives and whatever else your mother trained you in. Best not to mention it to your betrothed.”

Best Duncan never figured it out.

Kallian rolled her eyes. “It’s not that important anyhow.”

“We don’t want to seem like troublemakers, after all. Adaia made that mistake.” He shuddered, hearing echoes of her scream. He pushed the thought away. Today was the day his daughter and nephew would marry and it was a happy occasion.

“The humans who killed her made a bigger one,” she spat.

His heart skipped a beat. Cyrion wanted badly to agree -- the humans who murdered his wife and his sister were monsters -- but King Maric had done nothing then, and King Cailen did not even seem aware now. He couldn’t protect his daughter; the best he could do was warn her. “Our world is full of many injustices.”

“There should be something done about it,” she muttered. “So, what should I do now?”

“Go find Soris and make sure he’s ready,” Cyrion instructed. He smiled and reached out to fix where she mussed her hair. “You look beautiful.”

She hugged him and kissed his cheek. “Thanks, Father.”

 

His chest swelled as he watched them take their vows. They were safe, he was certain. Alienages needed young elves so badly that Valendrian could argue that splitting up a married couple was detrimental to the community. 

The moment shattered when Vaughan and his men entered the Alienage. The Revered Mother broke off uncertainly. “Milord, this is an unexpected surprise.”

“Sorry, Mother, but we’re having a party and we’re dreadfully short on female guests,” he laughed, standing behind Valora, close enough that she had to feel his breath on her neck. The young woman froze and glanced at Soris.

Cyrion’s blood ran cold. He knew what these men were here for, and dear Maker, he knew nothing would stop them. 

“Milord, this is a wedding,” the Mother hissed. 

“Ha!” Vaughan shoved Valora to the side. “If you want to dress up your pets and have tea parties, that’s your business, but don’t pretend this is a proper wedding.”

There was grumbling from the crowd. Cyrion’s own fist was clenched. This was their  _ home _ \-- let Vaughan have his pretty estate and his lavish parties, but he could stay out of their Alienage.

“Now,” continued Vaughan, “we’re here for a good time, aren’t we, boys?”

As he stalked past Soris and Nelaros -- who had both moved in front of their bride, bless them -- they lifted their chins defiantly. But Cyrion couldn’t help thinking how young they looked compared to the sword swinging at the nobleman’s hip.

Another man laughed and leered at the nearest woman. “Just a good time with the ladies, that’s all.”

“Let’s take those two -- ” he pointed to Valora and Kallian “ -- the one in the tight dress … and where’s the bitch that bottled me?”

_ Maker, no. Run, Shianni. _

“Here she is!” A drunken soldier gripped his niece by the arm. 

Shianni shoved him away from her. “Let me go you stuffed-shirt, son of a -- ”

“Oh, I’ll enjoy taming her, and see the pretty bride … ” Vaughan chuckled to himself.

Cyrion tried to move toward his daughter, but he froze in place at the sight of her cornered by the young noble. His heart raced in his chest and his throat closed up. All he could see when he looked at her was Adaia, pinned against a wall, struggling, a guard’s hand crushing her airways. He heard her dying scream as he charged down the hall. Felt her weight in his arms and smelt her blood. His legs were too heavy to move and he could barely manage even fervent prayers that these humans would not take what was left of his wife and sisters from him.

Nelaros grabbed Kallian’s hand and shoved her further back, leaning in to whisper something. Kallian’s eyes flickered between Shianni and Valora anxiously, then stepped out from behind her groom. “I’ll go with them. It’ll be alright.”

Shianni’s eyes widened, “Cousin -- ”

“I don’t make deals,” Vaughan snorted. “Not with the likes of you.”

“You’re a villian,” Nelaros snarled. 

Everyone’s gaze snapped to Nelaros. A small child whimpered. Nobody talked like that to the arl’s son and lived.

“That’s  _ quite _ enough.” He snagged Kallian by the wrist and yanked her against him, wrapping an arm around her shoulders to prevent escape. “I’m sure we all want to avoid further unpleasantness.”

“Please don’t hurt anyone,” Kallian whispered, so weakly that Cyrion almost didn’t hear. “Take me, but let the others go.”

He wanted to run to her and snatch her away, but he was terrified it would provoke the humans, that it would cause a slaughter. It was better to take the hits, lean into them so it didn’t hurt so much, and survive. He’d seen what happened to Adaia when she’d fought back, what happened to Shianni’s parents, when they fought back. But if he did nothing … He shot a silent pleading look to Duncan.

The Warden began shoving through the crowd quietly.

“That wouldn’t be much of a party, now would it?” The noble chuckled. “Oh, we’re going to have some fun.”

A young nobleman, a friend of Vaughan’s, stepped forward and backhanded Kallian hard enough that she fell unconscious.

Cyrion stumbled forward. Valendrian put a hand on his shoulder.

He stopped. He couldn’t protect his daughter, couldn’t protect his niece, no matter how hard he tried. He couldn’t protect anyone.

 

“Is that how humans are here?” Nelaros asked once they’d left.

Soris sat down bitterly at the edge of the stage. “The arl’s son thinks he can just waltz in and take whatever he wants. Most of the rest stay on their side.”

“That’s the arl’s son?” Nelaros paled.

“Yeah, why?”

“Where I’m from, it’s not  _ great _ , but Fergus and Aedan Cousland never came in an  _ took _ people.”

Cyrion wished he and Adaia had raised their children there instead of here.

Nelaros sat down next to Soris. “We need to get them back.”

“No,” Valendrian said. “They’ll be home soon. If you go in that castle you won’t come out. This isn’t Highever, lad.”

“Nelaros is right though,” Soris argued. “We can’t leave them up there. You said our strength lies in our commitment to each other -- let’s prove it.”

“Bring them back,” shouted another elf from the crowd, and the Alienage broke into chaos.

“Please, all you, listen,” the hahren begged. “I know you’re upset, and with good reason … But there’s nothing that can be done right now.”

“He’s right,” a woman agreed. “Running after them now will get them killed.”

“So we do nothing?” a young man broke in. “They took my sister.”

“Where are the women now?” Nelaros asked.

Cyrion answered numbly. “The arl’s palace, I suspect.”

“Normally I’d counsel patience,” Valendrian said. Very cautiously, he added, “But the stories about the arl’s son and his appetites are … most disturbing.”

Nelaros paled. A blonde woman at the front of the crowd chimed in. “Last year my friend was his chambermaid. One night she didn’t return home with me, and  … ” She shuddered. “She was found, washed up under the docks. Vaughan had his way with her.”

He trembled at the image of Kallian or Shianni mangled like that poor girl was. He swore he could already taste the coppery tang of blood in the air.

“It’s not … always this bad,” Soris muttered. “He’s not that bold -- his father can only cover up so much, but with the Arl away … ”

“We have to stop them,” Nelaros insisted.

“I’m with you on that,” Soris agreed. “If he touches them, he’s dead.”

“Both of you, the focus is on saving the women, not revenge,” Cyrion snapped.

The brother of one of the women spoke up again, sounding dejected. “But what can we do? It’s the arl’s palace. Even without the knights, it’ll be guarded.”

“Hahren, may I offer a suggestion,” another young elf asked. “I work in the palace. I can fit one or two elves in -- no one will notice a few extras looking around.”

“We can do that,” Soris rushed to agree. “If anyone can get in and out, it’s me.”

“I hate to say it,” Cyrion began, and oh, didn’t everything inside him cringe at all three of his wards in that godforsaken castle. “But Adaia taught you well. With some help, you can do it.”

“I’ll go,” Nelaros volunteered.

Duncan, who been silently watching the exchange, spoke up. “You’ll need weapons. Allow me to offer my own longsword and bow. A man should be able to defend his loved ones properly.”

It was a test. Duncan was here to recruit, and he wouldn’t leave without one. How foolish Cyrion was, to think he could save these children.

  
  
  
  



End file.
